


Reconnaissance

by thebakkat



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Voyeurism, ghirazant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebakkat/pseuds/thebakkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghirahim returns from a reconnaissance mission under the cover of nightfall - and accidentally catches his favorite Twili having some "alone time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconnaissance

Nightfall had long passed when the troops arrived back at the Gerudo base. A full moon lit their return, a soothing, cool light against the delicate curves and bends of the desert sands.

Ghirahim was exhausted. The Master had sent him to lead a select few troops on a reconnaissance mission several days ago, but several obstacles, be they beast, elements, or enemy impeded their immediate return. At least he would have plenty to report – spying on the enemy was definitely the best course of action at this stage in their campaign.

But now, war strategies were the farthest thing from his mind. He quietly padded through the temple halls, careful as not to wake his Master – he would announce his return in the morning. He could only hope that Ganondorf would be pleased with his work despite the delay. The demon rounded another corner before he was pulled from his thoughts by a noise.

It was slight, but distinguishable – a very soft, almost stifled moan. His ears pricked at the noise, eyes shifting slightly to determine the source. He then realised just where he was in the temple – Zant’s chamber door was at the end of the hallway. The demon slipped through the darkness to the door, crouched by the hinges. He focused, closing his eyes as to better assess the source of the sound. Perhaps he was too quick to jump to conclusions – maybe the Twili had just injured himself; a stubbed toe or something silly like that. Maybe it wasn’t even him.

Another moan, drawn out and wanton, quickly eliminated that theory. The deep yet frantic voice was unmistakably Zant’s. As for what he was doing… well, the imagination was quite a powerful thing. Frustration came easily to the Twili, and, Ghirahim supposed, this particular sort of frustration was no exception – he almost felt guilty for leaving Zant alone for so long.

Almost.

Ghirahim continued to listen, his ear practically pressed against the wood of the door. The moans came at a steady pace – some small, mewling noises and others heavy groans, punctuated with sporadic bursts of breath. He felt his body stir as he listened, his face growing hot as his insides coiled. Oh, how desperately he wanted to bust down the door, to throw himself at the Twili, to take him as his own, pressed against that long, lean, alien body…

He knew he couldn’t. If he were to enter now, it would be… awkward to say the least – he would reveal himself to be no better than a snooping child. But he couldn’t help himself. He scrambled to remember the layout of the bedroom – if he threw himself just right… there was a closet there, wasn’t there? Driven by lust, he teleported, hoping,  _praying_  that he’d land somewhere he couldn’t be seen…

Success. He materialized in a dark closet, which was largely empty save for a few sets of clothing, including those hideous, obstructive robes; Ghirahim couldn’t help but sneer at them. His eyes found a sliver of light pouring into the closet; the door wasn’t completely closed, and luckily, a candle was lit in Zant’s room. Very carefully, he prodded the door with his fingertips, with just enough pressure to grant himself a decent view. He went unnoticed, the thrill of this whole thing swooping through his stomach again. He was able to see Zant now – naked and disheveled, arching as those long fingers quested along his own body.

The Twili’s fascinating privates – two tapered, wet, prehensile cocks  – were writhing before him, twisting against each other; Zant whimpered as he took them both in one hand and began to slowly stroke himself.

Ghirahim couldn’t ignore the throb that coursed through him. He wasted no time with magic and instead undid his sash, pulling his trousers down just enough to free his growing arousal. He removed his gloves and sat against a wall, shrouded in darkness, and continued to watch, delicately fondling himself as to refrain from going too quickly – timing was key.

More and more soft, breathy sounds poured from Zant as he continued; he took his free hand to his lips, dipping a fingertip or two inside. His tongue lapped at the digits as they prodded at the sensitive pits at the corners of his mouth, eliciting a deep moan. The stimulus caused him to produce an impressive amount of saliva, which glistened over the Twili’s fingers and ran down from the gaps in his lips.

The demon stifled a moan of longing – he wished it were his own fingers inside that sweet mouth, or perhaps even his own cock, to be made slick by that tongue, that drool. He licked at his own hand, moistening it before beginning slow, languid strokes over his erection. Ghirahim shuddered, biting at his lip to keep himself from groaning at the sensation. He had to remember not to compromise his position, no matter how difficult it became.

Zant’s hands returned to his groin, against the twisting pillar of the joined appendages, and took one in each hand. His movements were surprisingly coordinated; he circled his thumbs against each engorged tip, bucking his hips as a few choice words in Twili escaped him. Ghirahim wondered to himself if they were curses or pleas – either would have brought him the same pleasure.

The demon continued to tease himself as Zant began to pump the cocks in his hands, alternating the strokes between left and right. The Twili’s toes curled as his twisting hands moved faster, and more garbled words fell from his mouth.

The slickness of the Twili’s natural lubricant on Zant’s hands was audible; the noise of the wetness only prompted Ghirahim to speed up his own stroking as well. He needed that slickness on him –  _in him_. He slipped a finger into his mouth, biting hard on the knuckle to keep himself quiet, as well as to stave off his impending release. Not yet. Soon, but not yet.

He could tell that Zant was nearing his edge, as well – the pale skin of his face was flushed, his amber eyes half-lidded and glowing slightly as his emotions ran hot beneath him. His jaw had gone slack, saliva pouring from dark lips along with lazy, slurred Twili speech. His hands were losing their established rhythm and moved erratically as his hips rolled and his legs quivered.

Zant’s moaning increased in pitch and desperation as he reached his climax – his back arched to an angle Ghirahim had previously thought impossible. He vigorously pumped the cocks as they emptied his load onto the sheets, practically screaming in his native Twili. Ghirahim was all but thrusting into his own hand now, grabbing onto the wall of the closet to redirect his energy into something -  _anything_ but vocalization. He was so close, so dangerously close…

And then he heard it – soft, but still clearly audible: his name. Zant murmured the sword spirit’s name, several times, as he wound down, still bucking weakly into the air above him.

The demon couldn’t hold himself back anymore – the idea that thoughts of him, them together, fueled such an intense release was more than enough to trigger his own. He bit into his cloak, quietly hissing through the fabric as he came, trying at least to aim for his body so that he didn’t leave any evidence – he could clean himself later. Once the haze of pleasure cleared from his mind, he quickly readjusted his clothing and teleported from the room.

He almost couldn’t wait until he saw the Twili in the morning.


End file.
